The Lionheart
by Archet
Summary: They were connected since the beginning. Six (short) chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**_Lionheart_**

By Archet

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything from the Silmarillion. I also do not own the lyrics or title, which belong to Of Monsters and Men (I hope they don't mind. You guys are awesome!). This is based off a tumblr post, but I don't know how to post links so…try to find it on your own? :p

* * *

_Taking over this town, they should worry_

_But these problems aside I think I've taught you well._

* * *

"Ready?" the older Elf asked of the younger.

"Yes!" chirped a young Fingon excitedly.

"Okay." Maedhros whistled, "Go!"

The elfling jumped off the short wall, landing in a roll. Pulling out a short sword, he pretended to kill the invisible enemies, providing his own side effects.

"Here comes a Balrog!" called the red-headed Elf cheerfully, "It's on your left, Fingon!"

"Got it." He swept a low blow to the imaginary Balrog's bottom, (hopefully) catching it off its guard.

He continued to skip around, killing orcs, goblins, and wolves with each step like it was nothing.

Elves have good memories.

Maedhros never forgot that day.

And he never forgave.

Hundreds of years later, Fingon met Ecthelion in the Halls of Mandos.

They wept and wept, the two of them, while Fëanor watched from a corner.

Far, far away in Middle Earth wept Maedhros alongside them.


	2. Chapter 2

_And in the winter night sky _

_Ships are sailing_

_Looking down on the bright blue city lights_

* * *

They were standing back to back in all of his dreams.

The face was blurry.

But there was no mistaking his hair.

"_Coppertop!_" he could hear himself whisper.

'Don't call me that,' would come the immediate reply that haunted his childhood.

But it never came.

He was never there.

The flames from Losgar always haunted his dreams. And Fëanor, the evil, evil uncle he was.

But Fëanor had been killed. Maedhros had been imprisoned.

Fingon had made it his goal to rescue him, his best friend and mentor.

He remembered the snow, the frozen emptiness of the Grinding Ice. It drove him on, the eternal chill down his backside.

He shivered.

On what might as well have been the other side of the world, Russandol shivered alongside him, as a ghastly wind ripped the warmth from the world.


	3. Chapter 3

_That we won't run and we won't run, and we won't run_

_And they won't wait and they won't wait and they won't wait_

_We're here to stay, we're here to stay_

_We're here to stay._

* * *

"You're going to be okay."

"I am dying."

"No one lives forever, Russandol."

The Elf smiled grimly at his best friend, the one he had asked to shoot him, kill him and rid him of his misery.

Fingon was something else.

The Valiant.

Pinned to his death, Maedhros had had a lot of time to think.

Most of his thoughts had been tinged with red.

There had been one night, looking up at the smog covering Thangorodrim, and he had wished for the stars so badly his sides had ached.

Somewhere, far away, Fingon had lay on his back in the forested ground, watching the stars. He watched the clouds roll towards him, watched them disappear.

And the stars appeared to Russandol, as he hung from his precipice.

He felt something change.

They'd been connected since the beginning.


	4. Chapter 4

_Howling ghosts they reappear_

_In mountains that are stacked with fear_

_But you're a king and I'm a lionheart._

* * *

He knew it was a dream.

There lay on the ground his brothers, Caranthir stabbed through the heart, lying on top of Curufin. Celegorm lay to the side, his head bent backwards, mouth gaping. The twins were in piles. Maglor…Maglor wasn't even there.

And there was another figure. Black from head to toe, broken and squashed, the red-head crept towards the body. He reached out his right hand and moved the shoulder.

Fingon's broken face stared into the darkness.

"No…NO!" screamed Maedhros, awakening the entire sick room. In rushed a nurse. In rushed Maglor, followed by Amrod, Amras, and Fingon.

He started to cry.

"They won't leave me alone," he whimpered quietly.

"They will," promised Maglor. If his brother was unashamed enough to be visibly sobbing in front of his siblings, it must've been serious.

"You don't understand…they're going to come true. I can feel it."

Maglor sighed, passing his hands over his brother's eyes.

No one noticed Fingon as the colour slowly returned to his face.

He was having his own nightmares.

Inside, he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to keep Maedhros safe. Safe from himself.

He didn't deserve to die like that.

Winning should never be a loss.


	5. Chapter 5

_Pass the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind_

_Though far away, though far away _

_Though far away_

_We're still the same, we're still the same_

_We're still the same._

* * *

Never confiding in each other, they continued to predict.

Eöl, Fingolfin, Saeros and Beleg. When Luthien and Beren had died, both Maedhros and Fingon fell ill for several days.

Six years later came the war. Maedhros had been in session of trying to throttle his brothers and mentally throttle Thingol for being an idiot. He hadn't even been thinking about his friend.

The Dragon had come, followed by a Balrog. Followed by the Accursed. They attacked, splitting up his ranks. Maedhros and his brothers had managed to escape before it hit him like a sickness.

_Fingon…_

Doubled over in tears, Maedhros felt as though his own bones had broke under him. He barely remembered Maglor picking him up to hoist over his shoulder, as the Elf slowly and painfully lost conscious.

It was worse than dying, he realized.

Worse than Thangorodrim.

He felt like he had lost his other hand. Bare, broken, with no reason to live. No ability to fight.

He felt weak, and he hated that.

He knew how it was going to end.


	6. Chapter 6

_And as the world comes to an end_

_I'l be here to hold your hand_

_Cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart._

* * *

After a mighty volcanic plunge that turned Maedhros' hair even redder than before, he was in Mandos' Halls.

He had taken one step.

_One step_.

He was tackled from behind.

"Coppertop! You're back!" came a muffled squeak.

The Elf almost broke down right there.

He grabbed hands with his best friend, his soulmate. He held them up close to his face.

"You know what little one? I was never gone." Russandol didn't even try to hold it together.

They both cried, but honestly it was acceptable.

The Lionheart had returned.

And to Fingon, that was all that was important.

* * *

**A/N This was written in under an hour, so I apologize for any mistakes. It's not excellent, but I needed to write it.**

**By the way, please let me know any canon mistakes. (Fun fact: It's mighty hard to write _anything_ Silmarillion without Internet or a copy of the book beside you. It so difficult [for me] to try and remember "Did this character ever actually meet that character before they died?". Not to mention the timelines between all the different wars…eek****)**

**If you have never heard the song King and Lionheart, I recommend it most definitely :)**


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